by Everly Frost
I inhale and it’s like a breath of freedom.
I chose Slade.
I really chose him.
But what does that mean now that he doesn’t want to be part of my life?
William says, “Your mother’s experiences are not yours. Her fears don’t have to be your fears. You can show Slade how you feel. That’s the only way to reach him. Because… Hunter… what if Slade is the Valkyrie who loses his path?”
I jolt. “No, Slade wouldn’t… He’s….” Angry. Cold. Seeks death at every opportunity.
And he is growing more powerful every day. I sensed it when I stood outside the Realm all those mornings. He called to my deathly power like nothing ever has.
He is on the precipice.
William won’t let me go. “You have to make sure he doesn’t step over the edge.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
I’m scared of how I feel. I’m scared of what Slade is becoming. I feel like a little girl right now, small and consumed by fear. Slade asked me if I loved him the night I flew away and I said ‘yes.’ But I didn’t say the words, not willingly, not with my whole heart.
William pulls me close. “The things worth fighting for are the ones that terrify us.”
Ridley might be my father—even if he is slowly coming to terms with that role—but William is like a father and brother rolled into one. I don’t know what I would do without him.
He says, “I believe in you, Hunter. You are a determined, strong woman.”
I pull away from him before I turn into an emotional mess. “Thank you, William.”
He taps the book in front of him. “I’ll keep working on this.” He stifles a powerful yawn. “But maybe after I’ve had a nap.”
I leave the shop, feeling as if one weight has lifted from my shoulders only to be replaced with another.
Dean warned me that Slade could become a sledgehammer in my life. In fact, Vlad, Ridley, and even Lutz have been trying to warn me. I can’t believe Slade would ever lose his path like that. But if he does…
I won’t let him.
Determination settles inside me as I blur and release my wings, muted silver in the pre-dawn glow. They slide right through the slits Tansy created in my suit.
It takes me twenty minutes to fly to the warehouse, the chill morning air rushing against me. Remaining blurred when I get there, I soar over the top of the rusted rooftop, noting the positions of the seven guards situated at strategic points around it. I’ll have to move quickly to tranquilize each of them without raising the alarm.
Then I will deal with the brothers inside.
I don’t plan on putting away my wings for this. Death can’t come soon enough for these men.
I target the guard with the sniper rifle positioned on the roof, swooping and grabbing him from behind, dragging him into my blur so that his shout of alarm doesn’t extend beyond us. The tip of a tranquilizer meets his neck and he’s out within seconds. I relocate him to the back of the building, propping him up against the wall.
Minutes later, I’ve snatched and deposited the remainder of the guards, positioning them in a neat row beside the first. Most of them are older men, but some aren’t much more than teenagers. Their chins rest on their chests, peaceful as I fly back to the front door. Willow promised me they will be out for hours with the potion she created for me.
Silence follows me inside the warehouse, along with the crisp morning air. There is no warmth in this place. The building is open and barren inside, a large space with a single chair in the middle of it. Its rusted walls and wooden planks barely keep the whole structure upright. Cracked windows high above allow the new dawn’s light to filter across the three brothers as they stand around a figure tied to the chair.
They are all armed with guns, although Enric is the only one dressed in combat gear. He’s also the only one holding his silenced weapon pointed and ready while the other two have left their weapons in holsters at their waists. Geno is dressed in a crisp suit, his lip curled in distaste as he stares down at his captive. Vincent is the most casual in jeans and a t-shirt, his arms crossed, tapping the blade of a dagger against his thigh, a brutal frown creasing his forehead.
Blood smears the knife.
Their captive is blindfolded and gagged. His ankles and wrists are zip-tied to the legs and arms of the chair. He’s dressed in regular clothes and it’s impossible to tell who he is.
I pause to reconsider my plan, tucking my wings into my sides. I wasn’t expecting a hostage. This must be the ‘situation’ that they have gathered to deal with.
The third rule of the Assassin’s Code makes collateral damage unacceptable. If the captive is killed, I will be stripped of my status. Even without the rule, collateral damage is not acceptable to me on any level. My Valkyrie nature is primed to punish, but never the undeserving. I am here to kill the brothers. Nobody else.
I was going to snatch the nearest brother into my blur and kill him with my power, then do the same with the other two, but they will open fire and aim wherever they think I am located. That didn’t bother me before but now the hostage is in the way. Random bullets are not a good idea.
A cold kill is what I need now.
Vincent leans down to the captive, tapping the flat side of the blade across the guy’s chest. “You should not have made our Lady angry.”
The captive shouts around his gag, the sound distorted by the material, but the brothers don’t remove it. They are clearly disinterested in what he has to say.
Vincent continues, “We’re going to make an example out of you.”
I tuck away my wings but maintain my blur, creeping up behind Enric. I carefully position myself behind and to his right, maintaining the smallest distance between our bodies as I reach around him, mimicking his stance, my right arm outstretched, my palm curved at the same angle as his.
The hostage doesn’t have long.
I take a deep breath. Focus.
I harness my power and speed so that I will move faster than Enric or his brothers can follow.
The hostage screams. He’s out of time.
With rapid movements, I materialize, fold my hand over the gun, and yank Enric’s arm to the right.
I pull the trigger and force his arm left. I pull the trigger again.
His brothers drop to the grimy floor without a sound, both clean shots.
Enric’s reflexes kick in. He shouts, wrenching away from me, but I hold on tight enough that he breaks his own wrist, leaving the gun in my hand. My left has already closed around the spare firearm he keeps tucked in his waistband, sliding the handgun out as he moves.
The bullet from that weapon hits his lung.
I aim the gun with my left hand as he crashes to the floor. I’m not prepared to let him suffer despite everything he’s done.
He stares up at me, gasping for breath. “Lady Tirelli will end you. You won’t know you’re trapped… until it’s too late.”
My jaw clenches. The weapon is steady in my hand. The trigger requires a gentle squeeze, and then it’s done.
I drop both weapons to the floor and back away, checking my gloved hands, waiting to see if they tremble.
I am calm. My heart rate is even.
I’m built to kill. It’s why I exist. Sudden tears burn behind my eyes. Is killing all I’m good at?
I swipe at my cheeks and try to focus on my next steps. I need to free the prisoner and then get out of here. All three Tirelli brothers are dead. Lady Tirelli vowed to come after me, but now her wrath will rain down on me. I don’t want to be here when she discovers them. I want her to come to me tonight when I have Vlad, Cain, and Slade for backup. That is… if Slade is still willing to be my backup.
The guy in the blindfold shouts around his gag, struggling against his bindings. I shush him, making sure my face mask is in place before I pull off his blindfold. If he sees what I’m doing he won’t be afraid that I’m going to kill him. Especially since I need to use my blade to cut the ties.<
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I say, “You’re okay now.”
His gaze snaps to the dead bodies around us. He yanks at the zip-ties, struggling and snarling against his gag. I pull it off and bend to release one of his feet.
He hisses, “Hurry up and untie me.”
I slow down, not quite cutting the tie from his ankle. I made sure this guy didn’t end up as collateral damage but I have no idea why he’s here. I assumed he was a victim like so many others but the cold expression in his eyes doesn’t fit with innocence.
He’s shaking but he isn’t terrified… he’s angry.
“I said hurry up!”
Hmm.
I keep my voice low, maintaining the appearance of working at the binding around his ankle as I ask, “Why were they holding you?”
His lips twist. “Lady Tirelli doesn’t like ground glass in the drugs. She doesn’t understand that it keeps profits high.”
I say, “It can also kill people, can’t it?”
He snarls, “Get me out of here before she turns up.”
I sigh inwardly. He is not an innocent victim after all.
I rise to my feet, leaving him where he is while I consider the technicalities of the collateral damage rule. I didn’t tie him up so… it can’t count as collateral damage if I do nothing to free him. Especially if I’m long gone by the time Lady Tirelli arrives. If the police get to him first, he’ll be lucky.
He shouts as I back away. “Hey! You’re not going to leave me here, are you?”
“Actually, I am—”
My skin prickles a mere second before the air shifts beside me.
Thump.
The guy’s head whips backward. Then he slowly tips forward, revealing the dagger lodged neatly in his forehead.
Shock forces me backward. The weapon came out of nowhere! I spin, but there’s nobody there, nobody near me, no lingering aura, not even the outline of a blurred figure. I don’t smell roses so it can’t be the presence from the shop. I brace, ready to take cover… until I see what’s engraved on the dagger’s hilt.
It’s just like Cain’s. Except that the stylized initials are not.
SB.
Slade Baines.
A cold kill…
Slade materializes beside me, his presence like a thud to the air and a quiet breeze at the same time. I can’t believe his blur is as good as mine. I had no idea he was standing there. None at all. Even the blurred presence in the shop, whose invisibility was the most complete that I’ve come across, was no comparison to this.
He retrieves his dagger before I have time to take a breath. He is focused, cold, the need to kill radiating off him in waves with such power that I hardly recognize him.
I shiver at how quiet he is, my skin tingling as his power reaches out to me. It’s a mirror to my own darkness, the force that can draw life from a person. It hits me so hard that my wings almost unfold in reaction to the call.
I rip off my face mask, trying not to shout, trying harder to quell my inner nature. He just killed a bystander and I have no idea what the consequences will be.
I whisper-shout, “I wasn’t in danger. You didn’t have to do that.”
Slade pockets the blade, but his focus remains on the dead man. His voice doesn’t sound like his own, making me tremble at the deep tones that sing through me.
“Don’t worry, Hunter. He isn’t collateral damage. He was my mission: a sanctioned kill. I didn’t want to interrupt you or I would have broken the sixth rule.”
That’s the rule about assassins interfering in assassinations. To break it means that the aggrieved Master is entitled to draw blood from the other. If he had interrupted me, I would have been entitled to fight him. It was why Mom gave her katana to Ridley all that time ago.
He says, “I waited for you to end your targets. I haven’t broken any rules.”
The energy around him is darker than I’ve sensed before. It is cold, hard, unfeeling, inhuman.
It is all Valkyrie.
Now my hands are shaking.
He spins without looking at me and I sense him drawing on his blur, ready to disappear again. He hasn’t looked at me, has barley acknowledged me.
This is not Slade.
It confirms the warnings I’ve been given: Slade is losing himself. The man standing in front of me—this cold assassin—is not the man I fell in love with and I won’t let that man slip away.
Dean told me I didn’t really try before. Well… now I’m going to give it everything I’ve got.
“No!” My back shifts and my wings shoot out, powerful and strong, piercing the air. My right wing strikes across the space in front of Slade, stopping his forward step.
He always did everything he could to avoid fighting me.
I’m changing that. Right now.
He stares at the glittering mass of my wings before he turns to me, slow and dangerous. “No?”
He finally looks at me, the lights from my wings reflected in his eyes, which are gleaming and cold.
I snarl, “I wasn’t finished here. You broke the sixth rule. You will fight me, Slade. I demand it.”
A smile breaks across his face as he meets my eyes. His are full of silver, glowing like a predator’s in the night. His gaze tracks from my face to my silvery wings. Then back to my lips. His own curve and soften while his pupils darken.
Oh, damn.
The way his gaze caresses me turns my legs to liquid. He takes a step toward me, his voice a husky growl as he says, “You have beautiful wings.”
He shivers. Power rips through him and a shimmering, silver mass appears before my eyes, shooting outward from his shoulders, cutting across the space on either side of us.
A scream grows in my throat, strangling within me.
Wings!
He has wings.
Glowing, silver, transparent, not-quite there, made up of streaks of Valkyrie power like electrical currents running through the air. Not solid like mine. Not metallic like mine. But… wings.
He says, “Hunter Cassidy, I accept the challenge.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
My heart has stopped and I can’t breathe, but he doesn’t wait for me to recover, coming straight at me.
My reflexes kick in and I evade the fist he aims for my face as well as the next he aims for my shoulder and then my side. I step, duck, and side-step again, my wings tucked tight to my sides, my arms shooting up between us to block each blow. I press against him as he presses forward, our forearms locked against each other while he scrutinizes me through the gap between our limbs.
He is testing my strength and reflexes, as well as his own. He comes at me faster and this time I retaliate, my fists blurring, connecting, crashing into his side and chest. He takes the blows, absorbs them, and keeps coming. We crash into the side of the building, cracking one of the supports.
Ducking his fist as it slams into the broken wood, I switch to attack mode, tucking my head down and barreling into him, spreading my wings at the same time. I catch him and soar upward, powerful beats taking us higher.
His wings curve, upsetting my flight arc, forcing us into a somersault. Tumbling through the air, we spin upward and hit the ceiling. Rusty metal sheeting busts at the seams, groaning under the force of the impact. Slade ends up with his back against it, my body pressed up against his in an effort to pin him there.
There’s only one way I’m going to get through to him, to get past his power, and it involves placing my hands on his face. He struggles, the ceiling creaks, and I use everything at my disposal—arms, legs, shoulders—to keep him in place as I slide a hand toward his temple. Unfortunately, I don’t succeed in pinning his arms. He wraps them around me, expands his wings against the ceiling and uses them to push off it. Suddenly, I’m the one who is captive.
I hurry to let go and fly backward, trying to pull out of the closing circle. He follows my every move, blocking the fist I aim squarely at his jaw and the next I aim for his stomach. We are evenly matched. We always were. Even before
I gave him my power, he could detect my weaknesses, my strengths, and match me.
There’s only one thing I can do.
I rapidly switch approach and dart forward, wrap my arms around him, and spin, using my wings to propel us around so fast that it takes him a moment to recalibrate. His wings become his enemy as they pull him off balance. He tries to tuck them into his sides, but it’s too late. As we spin, I propel us upward, bending one arm to protect my head and brace for impact.
We break through the roof, the metal sheeting ripping apart, nails popping as we spiral upward. He draws breath, landing a hit to my side in an effort to free himself. The air whooshes out of my lungs at the power behind his fist, but I’m not done, not by a long shot. As soon as we clear the roof, I beat my wings, force us forward, and then… down.
We crash back through the metal sheeting, iron and wood splitting and cracking, debris falling around us as I propel us straight at the floor.
At the last moment, I wrap my wings around him, cocooning him.
We hit the ground.
The impact shudders through me. Cracks in the floor shatter out from us. Only my wings prevent us from breaking every bone in our bodies.
Slade’s wings disappear on impact.
He roars and his power strikes through me in a protective instinct, the killing force burning agony through my arms, chest, and legs, but I won’t let him go. He’s lying on my wings, his body weight trapping himself within them.
I have seconds before he breaks free of my grasp. Seconds to make the connection. The power shrieking through him is building, screaming through us both but I won’t release him.
I will never let him push me away again.
I slap my hand against his temple. “You will come back to me!”
I dive deep into his mind, seizing control of his emotions and memories, sensing him tense and freeze where he lies half beside me, half under me, the breath hitching in his lungs, his big chest rising and falling beneath mine.
He struggles but I have control now. Just like I took control of Fallon. Just like Mom took control of me when I was little and I couldn’t regulate my power by myself—when I was a danger to myself and everyone around me.